Accidental Surrogate

Ella

It’s all come down to this.

My mind reels as I stare into the dark forest. For weeks I feel like Sinclair and I have been trapped in the same pattern: flirting, holding ourselves back, slipping up and falling in too deep, then retreating. It’s felt like two steps forward and one step back, but the reality is that those one steps have gradually brought us closer to this point. The wild hunt feels like a turning point for our relationship – a critical test to decide whether we become lovers or stay friends – if that’s what you can call us.

I know it’s up to me to decide. For all his affection, compliments and terms of endearment, Sinclair has promised to follow my lead when it comes to taking things to the next level. I appreciate his restraint, but there’s also a part of me that wants him to take the decision out of my hands. It’s just one more impulse this pup has given me that I can’t even begin to understand. I’ve never wanted anyone to decide anything for me in my entire life, yet here I am agonizing over my desire for a man I barely know, wishing I didn’t have to be responsible for once in my life.

I think that’s the problem. The temptation is so powerful that I want to throw caution to the wind, but I know better. I know so much better. So why am I still debating this?

Because it’s Sinclair. He’s different. He belongs to us. The little voice in my head encourages.

I don’t know what drugs you’ve been taking, but you really need to get a hold of yourself. I counter, feeling more certain now that my conscience has demonstrated just how insane this pregnancy is making us.

that my heart won’t be

ritual. Ethereal music fills the air, a nearby orchestra playing instruments I’ve never before seen, as drums and singing voices raise towards

I feel different tonight.

heavens, letting the strange sensations grow. Is it crazy to think I can actually feel the moon on my skin, or that the electricity pulsing through my veins is

sporting only sleek black trousers and bare feet.

must be so much more intense for the actual shifters. I find myself shivering and turning away before the voice in my head can tell me to go steal a kiss or immediately flee. Instead I take a deep breath and set off into the darkness, starting slowly as the music

the trees and feeling the cold winter wind on

me, no doubt giving him a head start as he takes up his pursuit, but once it’s over I’m able to carry on. At this point a true she-wolf would abandon the lantern and clothing to shift, but Sinclair promised me no one would notice I don’t. All the other wolves are much more concerned with their own hunts tonight, and they

music, and adrenaline and exhilaration flood my form as I continue running. I’m grinning so wide my cheeks hurt, and actually on the verge of

and again I’m forced to stop until the shuddering need coursing through my body passes. This time I understand why I’m shivering and shaking this way, because the mere sound set my body alight. He might as well have been touching me, bringing all of my neglected nerve endings to life the way only

catch me, but now that seems impossible. It’s not even an option. I don’t want to be caught. I just want to keep

Sinclair to stop us? My conscience inquires. He’s not the boss of us, I’m never going to stop running and I don’t care